


The Girl in the Shadows

by zfreak93



Series: Eldrigar - The Harbinger of Chains [1]
Category: Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Character Beginnings, Eldrigar, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 08:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zfreak93/pseuds/zfreak93
Summary: The Harbinger - a moniker she's carried all her life, just as much her name as that which her parents gave her at birth. Of blood, of chains, of the end of the Grand City of Ilyon; or at least that's what she's been told for as long as she can remember. But when the City falls, who will be left to remember what she is? The choice hangs before her - simply forget and move on, but leave her people in the clutches of Jhan, or take up that hated name and leave behind who she wants to be, all in an effort to turn the omen and free them from captivity?For Eros, ultimately it's not a choice at all.





	1. Ilyon on Fire

     He sees blood in the sky before he sees the moon. The smoke cradled above, clawing its way up and up and up until the plumes blot out the sky, choking the stars and denying their light. The wind carries with it faint whispers of ash as it flees from the rage of the storm brought by hatred and greed.

     To the south, in the Mother Forest Fel'Errien, he hears every uttered snarl, every moan of pain, every cry unleashed in misery and despair and death all at once. To the south, he envisions the spray of crimson blood against white stone walls, the desperate splashing of steps in the streams and shallow pools which dance around the city, the shedding of tears of families torn apart by vicious steel or shattered hearts or both.

     And to the south, he knows in the glow of fire so stark against the night sky, the kingdom of Ilyon has seen its last days.

     Just as he knew it would. 

     “Tyraelyx?”

     He turns, drawn from the light of the false dawn to the small figure emerging from the sanctum of the inn, rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes. Here he stands, between her and the conflagration on the horizon, taking stock of the girl he abandoned his home and his people to save – the girl whose birth marked the beginning of the end. 

     Where the light is blocked out over the streets of Ilyon, so it gravitates to its heiress. Long, silvery-white hair frames her face, falling well past her shoulders despite the curls and tangles gathered from long days of travel. Pale skin reflects the light of the moon from the hand which drops to her side, quickly covered by the falling sleeve of the too-large shirt drooping over her frame and tucked messily into her trousers, which just three months ago covered her toes but now just barely pass her knees. Her face is still round and healthy, still lacking in the lines and shadows of age, still un-weathered by time. She is, after all, just a child; a mere fourteen years of age, unproven as of yet to the world.

     But when he looks at her eyes, still bleary and unfocused as they slide past him to see the fire in the sky to the south, he knows that the time is coming where he can no longer think of her as such.

     “What happened?” she asks. For a moment he swears the gold flecks scattered in the light lavender of her eyes burn orange, as if ignited by the flames. He frowns, unsettled by the image.

     When he remains silent, she squints harder at the horizon. He sees her shoulders square, her back straighten, her eyes widen as she becomes all too aware of what she sees.

     “What. Happened.” She says again. If not for the slightest crack he hears in her voice, he might have thought he heard her grandmother in those two words – queenly yet not pretentious, although certainly demanding. He chooses not to correct her tone this time, if only because of the situation.

     He brings his eyes back to the south, to home. “My lady,” he senses her regarding him, and for the first time he realizes he's hesitating. “It... it appears that Ilyon is...” He stops, scowling as he tries to think of an appropriate response. A way to say it without breaking her.

     “But... there's other things between here and home,” she rasps.

     “That may be, however -”

     “How can you be sure its Ilyon?” 

     “Lady -” 

     “How do you know?!”

     “Listen -”

 _“Answer me!”_ she all but shrieks, panic overriding propriety.

_“Lady Harbinger!”_

     She flinches, looking down at the ground. Whether it's because he's yelling back or because he's used her title is anyone's guess. Regardless, the sound of footsteps on the wooden floors behind them indicates that other patrons of the inn have awoken, drawn to the shouting, and inevitably to the vision of the sky in flames. They begin to whisper, hushed voices clamoring together in disbelief. Down the street, more doors open, more people step out onto the road and look to see the smoke. With each new voice that joins the chorus, she shrinks further and further away, until she's huddled on the ground covering her ears with hands gone bone-white.

     No one else notices. Not until he speaks again,

     “Eros...”

     She sucks in a deep breath, and then like a bird startled into flight, she bolts, shoving past the onlookers and fleeing back up the stairs to – he assumes – their shared room. Several people watch her go. Those who don't immediately turn back to the sky once she's gone turn their attention to him, and the tone of their mumblings changes; he can _taste_ the hostility in their breath.

 _Best if I don't leave her too long,_ he decides. Before he can turn to follow, however, a man eases into the doorway – the innkeeper. He scratches at his beard before eyeing him suspiciously.

     “Ain't you one of the Moon Wardens?” he grumbles, low enough that only he can hear, as he gestures to his eyes, no doubt to indicate the intricate opaline tattoos just under them on Tyraelyx's own face. He nods slowly, eyes narrowing. “Then why're you still here? Thought yer duty was to defend yer people, 'n that don't look like no party.”

     “My business is my own,” Tyraelyx says simply, and he steps forward to move past the wrinkled old man in his way. “I would ask it be left that way.”

     “But your people -”

     “Their well-being is of no concern to you and yours.”

     The innkeeper's fist swings out, one meaty hand grasping the door frame in a vice-like grip. “Damned haughty Elf, if it weren't for that girl I'd be tossing you out on yer arse right about now, and don't think I wouldn't. Goddess, I hope she's not yours. Poor thing already looked scared half to death, doesn't need you making it any worse for her, already knowing her home is _burning_ -”

     He's heard enough. In one swift motion the innkeeper is on the ground, the tip of his rapier pricking ever-so-gently at his throat. Now people are paying attention.

     “I will thank you not to assume you know anything of my intentions, or about her. In response to your questions – I am. I was. I will be. Many years from now. Good-night.” And he retreats back into the inn, sheathing his weapon as he goes. The innkeeper lies in place, sputtering indignantly. Tyraelyx doesn't bother to listen to any of the conversation as he climbs the stairs. Too much else on his mind – now including finding other lodging for himself and his charge. He snorts.

     The noise doesn't pick up again until he's left the common room, ascending the stairs to follow after the girl, though it dies off again soon enough. While he hasn't yet quite gotten used to the quietness of night in the human towns, tonight he's grateful for it. Without it he wouldn't have heard the muffled sobs from the other side of the oak door separating their quarters from the rest of the hallway. He pauses, fingertips a mere breath away from the doorknob, hesitating again. _She won't want to see you,_ one part of his mind whispers. _She will need guidance,_ says the rest. _You saw this. You knew it was coming. So why don't you feel prepared?_

     The door waits in front of him. Behind it, his duty. But Tyraelyx finds tonight that doing it is so much harder than he thought it would be. _She has no one else, now. Go to her._

     His fingers recede from the brass knob. Sighing, he steps away, down the hallway toward the window at the end, where muted moonlight drifts inside. From this side of the building he cannot see the fires of Ilyon. There is only the night sky, broken by the hillsides and occasional tree growing in the distance.

     Calm. Peaceful. Not for the first time he finds a prayer escaping under his breath - a simple request for another vision, something, _anything_ to show that this one time he might have been wrong. That there was something he hadn't seen yet. Something he missed. If not for the sake of his people then at least for _her_.

     The moon offers him nothing but cold indifference. He should have known it would. Growling in frustration he turns on his heel and returns to the door, this time not even pausing before he goes inside. Eros lies on her side on her bed, curled away from him. The sight bothers him more than he feels it should. He tries to be quiet as he settles down on the other bed, removing his boots and cloak and sword belt and laying them on the ground at his feet. The tiniest clinking of the buckles feels like too much, and he has to stop himself flinching at each chime. The rapier he leaves within arm's reach of the bed, just in case.

     "Goodnight, princess," he murmurs, casting a glance over his shoulder, "The moon light the path of your dreams this night."

     He doesn't expect a response, although he hears the sheets rustle as she curls tighter around herself. Frowning, he lies down, and his eyes are just drifting shut when he hears the smallest whisper,

     "And sunlight draw you to waking, Tyraelyx."

 

-X-X-X-

     But Eros does not sleep. How can she? Her home is burning, her mother and father and grandmamma all in danger. And so she waits, staring at the far wall until she can just make out the sound of Tyraelyx's breathing, slow and deep in slumber. She waits a few moments more, testing to see if it changes when she sits up.

     Nothing.

     Carefully, she slips off the bed, stepping lightly onto the cold wooden floor. He still doesn't wake. She bites her lip before giving a sharp nod, quickly padding about the room on her toes to gather her things. Her boots she decides to carry, not wanting to tromp about and make more noise than absolutely necessary.

     The doorknob has other ideas. The brass _squeals_ as she turns it, and with a start she lets go as Tyraelyx grunts in his sleep. She looks back at him, half convinced she would wind up looking up the blade of his rapier, with him scowling on the other end of it. Instead she is met with the sight of him rolling over, hand dropping from where he'd surely been reaching for it. Luckily, his eyes are still closed.

     Letting out the breath she didn't know she was holding, she decides maybe the door isn't the best idea. The only other way out is the window, though. And their room is on the third floor.

     Still...

     Eros casts one more look at the door before she decides. Shaking her head, she goes back to the bed and pulls the case off her pillow, using it to muffle the noise of the latch on the window as she pries it open. Outside she can see the fires again, and it only serves to spur her on further. The blanket comes next, which she ties into a firm knot with her sheets. Cool air sifts into the room - she knows she's on a time limit. Especially when she hears Tyraelyx grumble something about 'too cold'.

     Tossing the majority of the makeshift rope out the window, she frowns when she sees it doesn't reach quite far enough that she would feel comfortable even falling the last few feet. A cursory glance about the room determines that the only other things she can use are the curtains she'd hoped to use to cover her escape. Oh well.

     She's able to pull them down without too much noise, and in just a few moments she's made the rope just long enough it should reach where she needs it to be. After tying it off the corner of the footboard of her bed, she sucks in one more deep breath and begins her climb. Only a few feet down she has to remind herself to open her eyes; she never liked climbing. One too many falls from the trees in the palace gardens has taught her that heights aren't really for her. _But it's worth it right now. Just have to breathe._ Carefully she picks her way down, avoiding other windows as best she can, hoping to not wake any other inhabitants of the inn. The last thing she needs is to alert anyone that she's leaving. Tyraelyx was already going to be furious.

     Blessedly, she makes it down without any incidents. Stumbling into her boots she goes around the back of the inn to the stables, slipping inside with all the grace of a shadow. In the end she decides not to light  any of the lanterns - if it meant not waking anyone, she would take the few extra minutes to find the stall where their horses were housed.

     Being both pure white and near the front, they're easy enough to find. Both Stardust and Icestorm look up at her as she enters the stall, watching her creep around to where their saddlebags lay in the corner. She knows better than to saddle Icestorm without Tyraelyx nearby; the last time she'd tried she almost had her ribs caved in by a particularly well placed kick. Stardust, however, just nibbles serenely at the oats in front of her as Eros hefts the saddle onto her back.

     "We're going home, girl," she whispers, securing it into place. Stardust snorts, but otherwise allows it to happen. Eros goes back to cover the bags that Icestorm had been carrying with hay - maybe that would delay her guardian from coming after her by a few extra minutes when he wakes. Icestorm gives a shake of his mane and stamps his foot as she does. "Shhh!" she grumbles, "We'll come back soon, I just need to know that everyone is okay." Icestorm whickers disapprovingly. "What, are you going to tell on me?" Somehow she wouldn't be surprised. As long as he was quiet for now though, she would be fine. _I hope_. "We're going, now."

     Taking the reins by the hand she begins to lead Stardust from the stables, wincing at each footfall. Why did hooves have to be so loud? Why couldn't it be raining? Poking her head outside reveals nobody else nearby - they must have all gone inside for the night. _Thank the Goddess._ Clambering onto Stardust's back, she urges her mount forward, not too quickly at first, but by the time they reach the outskirts of the small town she's entered a full on gallop. She knows she'll have to walk soon, but the more distance she can gain the better.

     With the fires to show the way, she guides Stardust to the south. Toward Ilyon. _To home_.


	2. The Warden's Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being honest, mostly just split this up into chapters to try to make it less of a wall of text, lolol. Truth be told this piece (almost all of it) I actually finished sometime back in like... September or October? Just getting around to posting it now because why not. Although since I'm doing chapter format 'm thinkin' I'm gonna have to edit the living hell outta some of the middle bits. Flesh 'em out a wee bit more. xD

     

* * *

 

     She isn't expecting Tyraelyx to catch up _quite_ as quickly as he does. The first thing she notices when she wakes is the sound of hoof beats - which wouldn't have been strange at all if not for the fact that they were from multiple horses. The second, and more disconcerting of the two, is that her face is buried into a warm, dark green tunic, which rustles in the pattern of somewhat frustrated breathing.

     She jolts into wakefulness, nearly throwing both of them from the saddle. He tightens his grip on her to keep her steady, while simultaneously firmly pulling back the reins. He says nothing as he brings Icestorm to a halt, where he allows her to dismount. Eros chooses not to prompt him.

     Instead, in a near panic she studies her surroundings. They're still on the road, she sees, and from the position of the sun - _is it really already past noon? -_ she knows they had to have been traveling for quite some time. While she doesn't remember when she fell asleep, she knows that it had still _technically_ been nighttime. The sun had yet to fully rise over the horizon, anyway. _But_... A light breeze brings with it the acrid stench of smoke, and she turns to see the direction they'd been moving.

     The trees of Fel'Errien seem much closer than before.

     Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, she looks back up at Tyraelyx. She's met with an icy glare. "I -"

     "That was both reckless and foolish." His words are sharp. Eros wilts, ears drooping as she looks down at her feet. "Running off on your own like that, and in the middle of the night no less. Ilyon is weeks away, what if you'd been waylaid before you got there? Or met our attackers coming north?" He shakes his head, expression softening, if just for a second. "You should have waited for me."

     "I was afraid you'd say no..."

    "Then _ask_ next time. Goddess forbid there is one." She peeks up at him again through her bangs, just in time to see him motion to her horse. "Mount up, we have a long way ahead of us. Just don't push Stardust too much, she's had as much of a rough night as you have."

     "We're not going back?" she asks as she obeys, hauling herself up into the saddle, "To the village, I mean."

     Tyraelyx gives a rueful smile. "Would you go willingly or would I have to tie you down at night to keep you running off again? No, better for both our dignity this way." He nudges Icestorm back into motion, and it's all Eros can do not to smile.

     "I'm sorry."

     "No, you're not." But his tone is playful, if a little sad. She doesn't comment on it. Instead, they ride in silence until they reach the edge of the forest. The smoke still hasn't cleared yet, although Tyraelyx does mention that it is no longer actively burning. She sighs in relief, watching him scan the trees, either for threats or refugees or she doesn't even know what. She does the same, although mostly she worries what they'll find once they get to the city. _If it's not burning, that means it's over, right? Whatever attacked us is gone? I wonder... how many people died._

"We'll take the Warden's Road, I think," Tyraelyx says, shaking her from her thoughts. He nods, as if he's convincing himself it's the right way to go. She tilts her head to the side, curious. Her mother had talked before of traveling the Warden's Road, but she'd never seen it or traveled it herself, or seen it on any of the maps - or the Ranger's Road, for that matter, which her father had walked many times. The thought makes her shudder in her seat. _Best not to think about it._ "Stay close. If you get separated from me you might not find your way back."

     "Why don't we use the main road?" Eros asks nervously, edging up behind him, looking around at the trees as they pass under the canopy of the woods. So far this looked just like the way they'd left to begin with. Were they going to turn off somewhere? She doesn't remember seeing any other paths until the outskirts of the city.

     He's quiet for a long minute before he sighs, "Two reasons." The shade grows deeper as the trees  begin to grow closer and closer together, eventually forming what feels like a solid wall of wood. The branches above them weave together so closely the path they travel may as well be a tunnel under the trees. Eros almost wants to ride ahead of him, if only to get out of the cramped space - this wasn't here before. She huddles down in her seat, warily eyeing her surroundings.

     "The first," he says calmly, as if nothing is wrong, "is because the main road may be dangerous. Who or whatever attacked the city may have eyes on it right now to watch for enemies... or refugees, to stop them escaping. Best not to draw attention to ourselves." The stone pathway below them gives way to soft, shimmering gray grass. Eros squirms in the saddle. Her nerves are prickling with energy, and the very air around her feels like its humming with electricity. It's difficult to sit still. Up ahead she can see light - paler and more muted than it should have been at this time of day - but remembers, _"stay close"._

     It's a relief when they exit the tunnel. Her eyes go wide at the sight of the full moon, closer than it had ever been before, and the thousands of stars surrounding it in the deep black sky. The grass here isn't gray; it's silver, stretching out in a all directions under the bright white bark of the trees and dotted occasionally by bright blue flowers growing in small, mostly isolated clumps. "And second," he brushes his hand along one of the trees as they ride by. Where his fingers pass the bark seems to go translucent, and Eros can see blue veins of sap pulsing with a light of their own just underneath. "The rules of our world don't exactly apply here." _As if that weren't obvious._ "We should be home in three or four days."

     "How? I've never even _seen_ these woods before, are we even still in Fel'Errien?"

     "Yes and no," Tyraelyx smiles, looking over his shoulder at her. "The world is full of places like this, which run parallel to the material plane but don't necessarily intersect with it, unless certain..." he pauses, considering for a moment, "Conditions, are met. The most notable are the planes of Light and Shadow, followed by the four elemental planes."

     Eros rides up alongside him, listening intently. "There's also the Gray Road - the realm of the dead - and the Realm of Twilight, where our souls go before rebirth in the next life. The easiest way to reach them would be to be dead, though you'd likely not return. It's not unheard of however, it's just extremely uncommon."

     "Have you ever been there?" she asks. Rather than answer he shoots her a look that she easily interprets as 'don't interrupt'. When he's satisfied she won't, he continues.

     "Then there are a countless number of what we call demi-planes - smaller spaces which are usually attuned to a certain aspect of the world, or to a specific person or people."

     "So the Warden's Road is -"

     "A demi-plane, correct."

     "You said there were conditions. How did we get here?"

     Tyraelyx sighs, glancing back up at the moon just briefly before staring straight ahead. Eros almost thinks she's upset him - his eyes look like they're focused on something much farther away than they are. She's about to apologize for asking when he holds up a hand to stop her. "How much of our history do you remember from your studies and what your grandmother has told you?"

     She has to pause for a moment to consider, twisting Stardust's reins in her hands. "Well," she starts, "I remember being told that a long time ago, when the war between the Light and the Dark broke out into Eldrigar, a faction of Angels was able to tame a whole flight of Gold Dragons in response to the Demons doing the same, and that they fought together against the Darkness. I remember, over the course of the war that most of the mortal races picked sides, and that our people originally - that is, the people living here in Fel'Errien - were split apart by the war and fought each other on both sides. Grandmamma said that the fighting went on for centuries until eventually there were only a few hundred of us left."          

     "Why weren't we wiped out?"

     Eros gnaws on her lip. She stops moving as she thinks, until he snaps that she's falling behind. She jumps, kicking Stardust back into motion until she's right behind him again. "Um... I think it was because... Didn't we eventually come back together?"

     "Yes, but how?" he remarks patiently, rolling his shoulders - _and probably his eyes_ , she thinks.

     "We stopped fighting each other... oh! It was Lunari and Solaris, they fell in love on the battlefield, and they were able to talk the different sides into making peace. They were made the first king and queen, and under their leadership Ilyon withdrew from the fighting." Tyraelyx's eyebrows furrow, and he stares at her skeptically. "What? That's the story grandmamma told me. Or at least the important bits anyway."

     He's quiet, before he lets out a small breath, shaking his head. "That is... certainly a story. One that's missing more than a few _minor_ details."

     "What do you mean?" Eros questions, perking up in the saddle. If there were parts that her grandmamma hadn't told her, of course she wanted to know. And maybe it would be a welcome distraction from -

     She stuffs down the thought with a hint of distaste. It wouldn't be much of a distraction if she were thinking about it being one.

     "Starting with the answer to your question - the Warden and Ranger's Roads were originally created by Lunari and Solaris as a means of meeting in secret and be unbound, if only for a short time, from the curses their own people inflicted on them for their dissent. They were never king and queen - Lunari died in childbirth before the curses were lifted. It was the Angels who turned them into blessings to save their daughter - who became the first Aurian - as well as gifting her the Gold Dragon blood which, although not active yet, runs in your veins. She was the one who convinced her father to help her open the Roads for their people."

     "That still doesn't answer my question."

     "I'm getting there."

     "Sor -"

     He fixes her with a cold stare. She immediately closes her mouth and waits patiently for him to continue.

     "Over time, the use of either Road has been limited to the Sun Rangers and the Moon Wardens, and those they choose to guide through. They are the reason why each faction is comprised of entirely Sol'Aurians and Lun'Aurians, respectively - we're the only ones who can reach them at will, and navigate them without becoming lost."

     He pauses. Tyraelyx can see the questions dancing at the tip of her tongue, and so he gives a small wave of his hand to motion for her to just ask.

     "Is that the only condition? Just be a Warden or a Ranger? Can we go to the Ranger's Road too? What's it like there? Is it like the opposite of this, just really bright and with a huge sun and like, a desert or something? That actually doesn't sound very nice at all..."

     He chuckles, "Hold on. One question at a time, princess." Sensing Eros' excitement, Stardust begins to canter just a little faster, and Tyraelyx has to move to catch up to make sure he's still leading. "No, that's not the only condition. The Roads only exist within wooded areas, and the farther one is from Fel'Errien, the harder it is to open them. Your mother and father are able to from as far as the Twin Cities area. I'm not sure about your grandmother.

     "As for 'just' being a Warden or Ranger, I'll have you know that it takes years of training and study to even be considered for a position in the ranks. Although you, who are directly descended from the original creators, will one day have the power to traverse them on your own, regardless of when you become a Warden," _Or not. With what we're facing, you may never get that chance._ "You will one day have the right to use both Roads, albeit separately, most likely. Crossing between them takes far more power than most people possess - even your grandmother lacks the strength to do it.

     "I wouldn't know what the Ranger's Road is like - I've never been. And given that there's very little interaction between the Rangers and the Wardens, it doesn't typically come up in conversation. You'd most likely have to ask Lord Heron."

     As soon as the words have left his mouth, she flinches, going uncharacteristically silent. Truthfully, he knew she would - just another failing in her life for which he blames himself - and he mentally berates himself for bringing it up anyway. When she still hasn't spoken after several long, agonizingly quiet minutes, he sighs softly, "Your father does love you, Eros. Even if he could try harder to show it."

     "He's wanted to kill me since the day I was born," she says flatly. Her face is impassive, but her eyes (dull) and ears (drooping) betray her emotions clearly as the sky above them.

     "No," He reaches out to touch her shoulder gently. "He would never want that - "

     "He thinks I'm cursed. So does everyone else. I'm the _Harbinger_ , remember?" How could he forget? It was his vision. He allows his hand to be brushed away as his mouth goes dry; how is he supposed to respond? "None of you think I notice it," she growls. He can hear the frustration in her voice, "I can see it in everybody's eyes. Pity. Fear. Everyone just feels sorry for me, or they act like I have some sort of disease and they stay away. I've heard the things people say behind my back.

     "I've... I've heard him and mama arguing. More than once. It's always about me - and I don't know why he can't just..." Tyraelyx catches the sight of tears dropping in the moonlight. She grips the reins tighter, closing her eyes, and when she opens them again they are red but the tears are gone. "I don't want to talk about it. Can we just... maybe not talk, for awhile?"

     He understands. And so, rather than say anything, he merely bows his head in response, and sets his focus on finding their way through the woods. The moon watches silently through the branches of the trees above.

-X-X-X- 

     "Do you think anybody else got away?"

     Tyraelyx glances at her over the fire. Once again Eros lays on her side facing away from him, picking at the grass near her bedroll. He tells himself it's probably just that the sight of the flame may make her uneasy, given the burning of the city, but the excuse feels weak. He knows she's angry;  probably with him. These are the first words she's said to him in the last three days.

     His eyes fall back to the campfire. The orange light makes him wince. Against the white of the foliage it looks wrong. Too bright. He sighs, "I don't know."

     She makes a small noise in the back of her throat, before she sighs as well, rolling over and eventually sitting up to watch the fire as well. "I'm sorry," she says after another moment of silence. "It's... Princesses aren't supposed to pout. But... I'm scared. Of what we'll find. We're close, aren't we? To home. I hoped maybe... maybe mama or grandmamma... maybe we could have seen them? Or maybe some of the other Wardens or the Rangers could have lead people to safety or..."

     "It's not bad to hope, my lady."

     Eros hugs her knees tighter to her chest, "How can you be so calm?" she asks quietly. When her eyes meet his she's surprised to see that he's smiling, although it does not reach his eyes. "I don't understand, is all. I don't mean it like... to berate you, or anything."

     He barks out a short laugh. "Truthfully?" he looks away, past the ring of their campsite, "Well, the simplest way to put it is that it's my job to be calm. People are relying on me. I don't get to be afraid - if I lose my head, then that makes those under my protection more afraid."

     "That isn't fair."

     "No? Why is that?"

     "Because it's your home, too. Just because you're here with me doesn't mean..."

     "It isn't just you, princess. I'm not sure what we'll find, either. But regardless of if everything is fine and there's just some small damage or if things are worse than we would like, as a Moon Warden it will be my responsibility to protect who I can. Fair has nothing to do with it. I know where my duty lies, and I will serve to the best of my ability."

     She blinks. Studying him awhile longer, she finally speaks again, "...Are you afraid?" When he doesn't respond she stands, and goes to sit next to him. "You can be, you know. At least around me. I understand."

     Tyraelyx looks like he's about to say something else when he pauses, eyes narrowing and gaze flickering just slightly to the side. His body goes completely rigid before, faster than she can see, he's on his feet with his rapier drawn, and one hand coming back from where he'd shoved her down onto her side. If not for his sudden change in demeanor she may have demanded an apology, but as it stood somehow she felt like it would be best if she remained silent.

     He stands there, completely still but for the slight rise and fall of his chest and the breeze ruffling his cloak, listening intently to everything around them. The small pops and cracks of the embers as the fire continues to burn are too loud to her ears, but to his they must seem like nothing as she sees them twitch in response to the faintest sound. She realizes she's trying so hard not to distract him she's stopped breathing on accident, and just as she's about to remedy that she hears it - a series of soft thumps moving this way through the grass.

     Naturally Tyraelyx hears it as well. He turns to the right and just as a branch breaks on the other side of the trees he dashes forward, weapon flicking up and the flat of the blade going across his body to his other hand, holding back the howling beast that launches itself out of the grass into him. Eros doesn't know what to think of it, seeing him lean back almost lazily, holding himself back from snapping jaws. He seems only mildly perturbed at the saliva flying into his face as he shoves it off, quickly stepping up to deliver a swift thrust into its side as it tries to rebalance itself.

     It yelps, then snarls, then backs away, growling and barking and shaking its mangy head as its beady yellow eye locks onto Tyraelyx, who merely wipes his face with his sleeve. He scowls as it begins to try to circle him, keeping himself between it and her. Eros doesn't move, watching as it stands straighter on its back legs. She realizes its wearing some kind of armor, but it looks as though it's been chewed and torn in an effort to try to remove it. Looking closer she realizes that there's a shard of a tree branch lodged inside its chest, and - _are those roots trying to grow_ into _its body?_ Once it straightens out she can see that those same roots are growing out of its other eye - or at least the hole where it used to be. She cringes.

     Which is enough to draw its attention. It looks at her and against her better judgment she immediately tries to scramble back. It leaps for her, claws outstretched and jaws open and she's about to scream.

     Until Tyraelyx steps in, catching it by the fur on the back of its scalp and shoving his rapier into the base of its neck. It falls to the ground in front of her with a loud thud, dead. The roots in its eye twitch slightly, growing slightly larger, and she scoots farther away from it.

     "Get on Stardust, we need to leave, now."

     "Tyraelyx -"

     " _Now_ , Eros." He waves his hand and mutters something under his breath, and from nowhere there's a downpour of water which drowns out the fire. Steam hisses angrily from the remains, but neither pay it any mind. Hurrying around the campsite he helps shove her into her saddle before swinging up into his own, and with her in tow they start a swift journey away.

     "What was that thing?" her voice shakes, and it isn't because of how quickly they're moving.

     "Not supposed to be here," is his answer. She stays as close to him as possible, only falling slightly behind when the trees funnel them back into the material plane - the grass turning green again is enough to tell her that much. They don't stop until the horses are visibly lathered, huffing and prancing in a small clearing and in dire need of a rest.

     She waits to speak up, noting how his stance is still wary and bothered. He looks even more on guard now; he's not necessarily jumping at every sound, but he seems close to it. And there _are_ more now; the chattering of squirrels, the warbles of birds, the occasional leaf brushing against bark when a strong enough wind blows to rattle the branches.

     "Tyraelyx," he whirls on her, like he's expecting something to be coming up behind her at any moment. She fights not to take a step back under his gaze, waiting for him to take a deep breath and calm down. "What was that?"

     He blinks, exhaling through his nostrils, and when he opens his eyes again he seems to have calmed down. "That was a gnoll. Filthy creatures. Where there's one, there's more. Usually much more. They travel in packs, and if their appearance isn't enough to make it obvious, they behave more like rabid dogs than people."

     "And the roots growing out of its face?" she hazards, not sure she'll like the answer.

     He grimaces. "There's a reason I told you to stay close." Tyraelyx shakes his head, "As soon as the horses are rested we'll continue on - we're close enough to home we'll be there before the end of the day."

     "How did it get to -"

     "If any of the other Wardens did try to escape using the Warden's Road, then they likely accidentally brought our enemies with them. On the one hand, we know what attacked us. On the other... if they were distracted enough that even one got through and away..." he stops, but Eros can imagine what he was about to say. _Then they're probably dead._ "We'll need to be cautious. Here in Eldrigar I imagine it's been roughly three-and-a-half weeks since the attack. Plenty of time for the enemy to have consolidated forces if that's their plan."

     "R-Right." She shudders, and goes to sit down while they wait. Tyraelyx paces impatiently about the clearing, until eventually he sits as well. He knows he needs to focus, but knowing that somehow a _gnoll_ of all creatures had made it into a place where it should never have been able to... it's much more than simply unnerving. _And no band of gnolls that I know of would attack a city like Ilyon on their own. Something had to be driving them. 14 years to prepare for this and I still have no idea who._ He can't help but be disturbed. _Nothing to do but wait for now. I have a feeling that we should be mostly fine, but one can't help but wonder._

     He risks a glance at Eros. She's staring off through the canopy of leaves at the sky, looking lost in thought as well. Eventually the horses begin breathing normally, and once he is satisfied they aren't going to become overheated he waves to get her attention. She says nothing, just nods, ready to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a little bit of world building in here, which may or may not exactly be 100% the truth, but it is as these characters know it (at this point in time, haha)


	3. Return to the Ruins

   

* * *

 

     Several hours see them picking their way through the forest until finally, _finally_ , the marble pillars marking the borders of the city enter their field of vision.

     Eros has never felt so worried to see them. She stops then, wanting to turn back for now, to wait for nightfall just to have the comfort of the moon behind her. Logically she knows that the longer they wait, the greater the chance they might be discovered, but... _Why did the Road have to spit us out in the early morning?_

     "Breathe," Tyraelyx says from beside her, "That's always the first step."

     "What?" she questions, confused.

     "You asked how I can be so calm. The first step is just to keep breathing."

     She obeys, following the rhythm he sets as an example. In for three seconds. Hold it for three more. Out for four. Repeat. She can do this. She feels a little better already, and when he notices it he speaks again.

     "Now, listen. What do you hear, this far out?"

     She strains her ears, trying to pick out the sounds of the forest. She can still hear the birds and the squirrels farther out, but other than that, nothing. No laughter, no music, no sounds of _people_. And that feeling of dread worms its way into her stomach even more. Still, she doesn't have time to focus on it.

     "Anything out of the ordinary?"

     She shakes her head 'no'.

     "Good." Although just to be safe he stops to listen as well. "It's quiet, for an afternoon. We'll take it slow, although I think it would be best to leave the horses for the time being. No need to announce our presence with hoof beats." He begins walking away from the pillars, skirting the edge of the border. "There's a rest stop nearby - they'll have a place to rest and eat while we continue on foot. If it stays this quiet we shouldn't have much to worry about."

     She's not sure how to feel about walking away from their mounts. What if they need to get away quickly? "What makes you think it's safe?" she asks softly.

     Tyraelyx hesitates for just long enough that she notices it. "Ilyon..." he says slowly, as if he's already editing what he wants to say in his head, "Ilyon is the largest city of our people here in Fel'Errien. The palace is here, and so it is also the most heavily guarded, even if it's not the most fortified. For there to have been an attack here in the capitol, which caused a fire so large we saw it as far away as we did... it would require no small force.

     "Armies are loud. Between horses, wagons, weapon and armor smiths to repair gear, not to mention soldiers bickering over supplies, spoils of war, or perceived insults to their pride. There's also commanders shouting orders to be heard over the noise and to get the attention of their units and messengers. Shouting to keep any prisoners in line, shouting back by the prisoners. If we don't hear any of that, it's most likely they've marched on and left."

     She's quiet as she considers his words. "And if they aren't there?" she says after some time, "Would it still be so quiet if everything was okay?"

     It's a roundabout way to ask if he thinks many people are still alive, he realizes. Ilyon's army was never quite so large, although the last 14 years have seen it grow considerably in size. Really it was a small militia at best, supplemented by the Rangers and the Wardens - who could typically respond to threats far quicker than most with the use of the Roads - so if a foreign army had really invaded...

     Against practically helpless citizens it would have been a slaughter. _And even she knows it._

     His silence is answer enough.

     They continue walking, and once they've passed through a second set of pillars - taller than the last - they begin to see signs of the damage. A faint layer of soot covers the trail, turning the warm browns of the dirt to a dingy gray. Once the trail gives way to stone, they begin to see tracks moving in both directions; footprints, both of men and horses, and the telltale clawed paw-prints that Eros assumes must belong to gnolls. Much of the grass in the area is flattened and stomped on, and looks as if it still hasn't found the strength to stand again. Many of the trees outside the city bear signs of the ash as well; black spots clinging to bark and branches and leaves.

     It's at this point that Tyraelyx draws his weapon again, and Eros can honestly say she feels better knowing he has it. He motions to her, then points to his ears and then to the city. She stops moving to listen, but hears nothing save for the beating of her own heart and, further away, Tyraelyx's quiet breathing as he no doubt comes to the same conclusion she does. They are alone.

     Her eyes start to burn, but she tells herself it's just the ash on the wind.

     He leads the way, and it isn't long before they come across the first body. It's all Eros can do not to retch. She covers her mouth and nose, gagging at the smell that rises from the corpse - a little boy, maybe only four years old. Flies buzz around him in a dark, angry cloud, crawling across peeled back lips and eyes bulging past bony cheeks. What clothes that haven't yet rotted away are brown with dried blood.

     Farther into the city it only gets worse. At one point she actually does stop to vomit, so bad is the smell. With a growing sense of horror she realizes that most of the bodies they've seen up to this point are those of children. Hardly any look older than five. They don't start to see anyone older until they reach the main square, where it seems most of the fighting had to have been.

     One of Eros' favorite things about Ilyon were the streams and pools which littered the area. In the summertime, the children of the city could always be seen splashing around in them to stay cool, or dropping leaves in them and watching them float away, pretending they were small boats for ants or fey. Now, the waters are choked with blood and gore, and bloated bodies float serenely, undisturbed by anything but the light-forsaken flies. She doesn't know if she'll ever stop hearing the buzzing.

     "Tyraelyx..." she finally calls. He turns to face her, and in his eyes she sees the pain and disgust he's trying so hard to hide. She sinks down to her knees, scattering more ash around her before it settles into her clothes. _How could anyone do this?_

     "Breathe," he says. She looks up to realize he's standing in front of her. "You have to breathe, Eros. You can do this. Just breathe." She searches his face, and she knows he's just as scared as she is. Somehow knowing that helps, and she's able to take a deep breath, settling her resolve - if he can stay calm, then so can she. She takes his hand and he pulls her to her feet, and together they make their way up the steps which lead to the palace's outer gates.

     One side is ripped completely off its hinges, the iron bent and twisted into a cruel parody of what it should have been. The once polished metal now rots red with rust, or caked on blood. She's not sure she wants to know which. Just beyond is another pile of bodies - mostly more gnolls, she's relieved to see. Many of them are feathered with arrows, while others have smaller wounds which must have come from the spearmen who lay dead not much farther away. They must have rushed the gates until eventually there was so much weight pushing against them that they couldn't withstand the pressure any more. The thought is sickening - how many of those gnolls at the bottom of the pile had been crushed to death before the gates had given way? Didn't they care at all about their own lives at least? She remembers the frenzy of the gnoll on the Warden's Road, and shudders.

     The palace grounds, she sees, seem to have suffered the most damage. Inside the gates should have been littered with a bright myriad of flowers, painting the ground with blues and pinks and purples and whites on a backdrop of emerald green. The pathway to the left would have lead to the orchard she remembered playing in not two months ago. Her mother's orchard, where she grew the apples which were her pride and joy; sweet and crisp and if they didn't become pies or tarts then they made the best cider. To the right was where her father would spar with many of the soldiers and guards on days he didn't entertain guests from far away kingdoms. She could see herself, years ago with her friend Tarthan, playing at swords and chasing each other around the shaded veranda, and peeking around one of the pillars there to listen to Chief Hulbjorn boast of wrestling a storm giant and winning the friendship of an enemy chief's son. She remembered him noticing them and telling them to come sit and enjoy the story - even when her father tried to protest.

     Now, the flowers are gone, either stepped on or choked out by the ever present cloak of ash. The trees of the orchard are black lifeless husks, naked branches clawing desperately at the empty sky. Several of the pillars from the veranda have been broken out and toppled over on the ground, and one, more broken and particularly crushed on one end, rests near the smashed open black oak doors leading into the palace interior.

     For the first time she can remember, Eros feels unwelcome walking into her own home.

     Her breath shakes as she steps through the wreckage of the doors and takes in the sight of the ruined greeting hall. Here, too, is littered with corpses, staining dark circles of rot into the royal blue carpets, and what few tapestries remain hanging from the walls are now tattered and torn, like someone tried to rip them away. She can see cracks in the walls, and bodies slumped over just below where they'd been thrown into them from some great amount of force. From the soot and seemingly randomly placed scorch marks on the floor and walls, she can only guess that, at least from this point, magic must have been involved.

     Tyraelyx walks around to inspect the bodies that don't bear at least some Ilyonic armor, turning them over with his foot and peering at them intently. What he's searching for, she doesn't know, but while he's distracted she takes the chance to continue forward on her own. With nothing having challenged their progress so far, she feels comfortable thinking that she shouldn't run into trouble.

     Her feet carry her through more ruined hallways, which are startlingly free of bodies, although she can see long gouges in the carpet from clawed feet sprinting through, and blood stains from dripping weapons and seeping wounds. Most of the doors she passes are scratched at or broken in, and when she reaches the ones she's looking for she has to take another deep breath before she continues. They're barely hanging on their hinges, and one actually falls off under her touch, slamming down onto the marble floor on the other side. Dust and ash fly into the air, causing Eros to cough after accidentally inhaling the grit, trying to spit it out. Any noise she makes doing so is drowned out by the echo of the door.

     Once she's wiped the dust from watery eyes, she looks out across the room - the biggest so far, with a high vaulted ceiling and the entire second floor being a balcony looking down - where her grandmamma's throne sits proudly on a raised dais under a large, smashed open window. Dust motes spin in a lazy arc through the light drifting down and illuminating at least a small portion of the room. There's even more rubble here than there was in the entry hall. Rocks and the broken statues of her ancestors are scattered in pieces along the walls to the left and right, and like the entry hall, soot stains the walls and floors in seemingly random places. Some sections of the marble look as if they were melted, others have moss growing from cracks that didn't used to be there.

            Her footsteps echo, forlorn, as she walks the distance from the door to the near center of the throne room. Just in front of where she stops is the Eclipse Pool - a perfect circle carved into the floor, filled with eerily still water that, despite the ceiling above it and the fact that it still is only early evening, perfectly reflects the night sky, although the moon has never been visible for as long as she can remember. Leaning over it does not add her reflection to the water's surface, and she wonders as she stares down into the depths if it even so much as rippled during the attack. The stars shining inside are just as still as before, glittering the way they always have. _At least one thing stayed the same_.

     She sighs and skirts the pool, going around to the throne. Colorfully stained glass crunches under her feet as she moves closer, disrupting the silence. One step down from the throne she stops, fingers reaching out and tracing the silver and gold detailing that runs like small veins from the floor through the carved stone. The left arm bears a motif of a golden rising sun, with flowers growing up from the ground to meet it. The right, a crescent moon hovering over silver waves which sway as if in dance to a rhythm trapped inside the carving. The dragon which slept soundly at the top is missing, the only hints of its presence being its toes and tail which still trail down the side. Where it should have been is jagged and broken. Looking closer, Eros can see the hints of ash that point to it having been blasted away during the fighting. _Probably by grandmamma_. Although the thought of anyone who could overcome her grandmother's magic made Eros' skin crawl. She shivers, turning away from the broken throne.

     She almost jumps when she sees Tyraelyx standing just where she'd been moments ago. There's a strange look on his face, but it's gone almost as quickly as she notices it, hidden as he gives a small bow. When he rises, he's holding a sheaf of paper, which looks far too clean and neatly pressed to have come from one of the bodies.

     "Magic," he says by way of explanation when he sees her staring at it. "Took some cleaning up, but this was on one of the dead men in the great hall."

     "What is it?" she asks, moving to join him.

     "Orders." He hands her the paper, unfolding it carefully. Reading over it, Eros is sickened to see that it's not a call for slaughter, but for slaves. 'Take them all,' it says, 'kill any that can't be used. If you find it, report immediately.'

     She scowls, giving it back, holding it between two fingers as though she's loathe to touch it. "What were they looking for?" she wonders aloud.

     Tyraelyx shrugs. "I'm not sure. Neither was he." Seeing her mouth open, he stops her with a hand. "I pulled his spirit back and had him answer some questions. He didn't know. He said the only people who did were his commander and their... employer. Whoever that was. He didn't seem to know that either.

     "He did, however, know that a good majority of the people were taken. He said his death was caused by a friendly fire incident over the splitting of some loot, but by the time everyone else left, they took some several thousand slaves with them. Your mother and father and grandmother among them, under heavy guard."

     "How did they move that many people so quickly?" she wants to know. A mass exodus like that should have taken weeks. They could still be in the forest somewhere - they could still rescue them.

     Her hopes are dashed when he shakes his head. "Teleportation. Seems they had a large number of mages with them. And at least one arch-mage, to be able to overpower the Queen." He casts a critical eye around, "Judging by the state of the throne room I'd say at least two or three."

     Eros nods. They both go quiet for a few moments. He looks around more, before finally deciding to go back outside, saying it would be best for them not to linger. She follows, but with each body they pass she can't help but feel that maybe... maybe they should. He's halfway to the outer gates when he realizes she's stopped. "Eros?" he calls, looking over his shoulder. He sees her standing just outside the doors, looking down, biting her lip, and twisting a dagger (thankfully it's in its sheathe) in her hands. _Where did that come from?_

     "I... I think we should stay for awhile," she mumbles. He only just manages to catch it. "We can't just leave Ilyon like this. With... with the bodies everywhere. They at least deserve a proper funeral." She glances up at him through the fringe of her bangs, and for the second time since Ilyon has burned, he thinks he sees the Queen in her.

     Still... "We don't have the time for that, Eros," he says. Funeral preparations for a fresh corpse could take several days on its own. Considering how many there were now, and all of them rotted, _and_ with the sacking and burning of the city...

     "Where else do we have to be?" she fires back, "It's not right to leave them this way. Ignoring it would make us monsters, too. Please? I-I'll help, with finding dressings and cleaning, and getting the longboats ready and everything. Even... even for the people who attacked us."

     "Why go through the effort for them?" he asks, genuinely curious. His eyebrows raise, surprised.

     "Because they were people, too. Even if they did bad things." She offers him the knife, handle first. "Please, Tyraelyx?"

     There's a determination in her eyes that tells him that even if he says no she'll most likely do it anyway without him. The fact that she's willing to go so far to do the right thing, even for her enemies, reaffirms his thinking she would have made a good queen, and he can't help but admire and respect that decision. He smiles, just a slight twitch of the lips, moving to accept the knife. The smell of death on it tells him she must have plucked it from one of the bodies inside while he wasn't looking. _Of course._ She looks up at his face as she lets go, and gives a smile he thinks would have been so much brighter if not for the accompanying tears he sees slide down her cheeks, before she buries her face into his tunic and hugs him tightly. Startled, he awkwardly hugs her back, patting her back softly.

     "You're sure about this?" he asks.

     She nods. "They don't have anyone else."

     "Then we'd best rest and prepare. We've several long days ahead of us." He steps back, and gently turns her around so her back is to him. "Stand still," he says, "I'd hate to accidentally cut you."

     "Right." She stands up as straight as she can - shoulders back, chest slightly forward, chin raised just enough to be prideful but not arrogant, just like her mother taught her. He unsheathes the dagger, and gathers as much of her hair in his fist as he can, leaving just enough room for him not to cut himself.

     "With great sorrow we bid farewell to our friends and loved ones," he says, "We see their light has darkened, and in their passing we send with them with a fragment of our own, so that they may find their way beyond the stars to their next life. May this fragment be enough to banish the darkness that would halt their journey." He drags the knife through her hair, cutting it through, letting it drop to the ground. He moves to trim it down further. "Let the moonlight soothe away their pain. Let the stars guide them forward. Let the sun rise over their new beginning, and bless their next life with joy."

     The last strands fall, and he turns the blade over to her as she turns, kneeling so that she can do the same for him. It's only proper that, if she cuts her hair for mourning, he do the same. Even if it takes her a little longer to cut it. "I'll straighten it out later," he says, running his fingers through it at her apologetic wince. "We both will. For now let's find a place to rest."


	4. Saying Goodbye

* * *

 

     'Several long days' comes to mean the better part of two months. Between scouring every building they can get into and the streets for as many bodies that can be found as possible, and Eros going to find cloth to make dressings for them while Tyraelyx either uses his magic to restore the corpses just enough that they _can_ be wrapped or makes quick forays onto the Warden's Road to gather flowers for the boats, the two of them manage to send off groups of thirty or so dead at a time every other night. True, the funeral wrappings are somewhat haphazard, sewn together from whatever blankets and clothing she's able to salvage and the tapestries that once hung inside the palace. They aren't able to give everyone a personal token to carry into the afterlife given that they can't identify all the people they do find, but those they can't receive a silver coin that Eros managed to pull from her own stash from under a floorboard under her bed, where she'd found her kusurigama - a gift from her mother's travels to the Dragon Empire - safe and untouched by any of the looters.

     The last group drifts away down the river, lanterns bobbing gently over the bodies and the blue and silver flowers decorating them, until they reach the Gate of the Fallen, where the boats and everything in them dissolve into rising motes of gold and silver light. Rather than watch them, his eyes are on Eros, who stands on the bank near the water, staring until they've winked out. She looks like a ghost herself; short white hair and pale skin, wearing a simple but formal white dress, all glowing by the light of the full moon. Even in the dim light he can see the shadows under her eyes - she's slept less than he has these last two months, having taken it as her personal duty to stand vigil for the dead. Her lips are moving, and although he knows she's worn her voice down to nothing he imagines he can hear her singing the Song of Mourning, a simple dirge meant to help with the process of passing on, an offer to free the souls of the dead from their sorrow. Just the same as she has every other night prior.

     For this he does not offer his own voice - to do so would be a grave insult to the families left behind. He isn't sure how he feels about _her_ doing it, truthfully. While he supposes it would be a great honor to have the princess claim these people as her own family - including their attackers - it technically isn't her place. Still, she was right. _They've no one else to see them off._ Instead he waits in silence, until the last of them are gone, and she stills.

     She stays to watch the sky for a moment longer before she turns, coming back, swaying slightly on her feet. When he offers her an arm to help she brushes it away, shaking her head. "'M okay," she croaks, "Just tired. That was the last of them?" She looks up to meet his eyes, and he sees the exhaustion plain on her face. He nods, and she gives a small, sad smile. "Good."

     "We'll need to leave soon. I'd say now would be a good time, but you need to sleep."

     "I... I think tonight I'd like to sleep on my own bed. Since... it's going to be a long time... before we come back."

     The request is reasonable enough. He nods again. Even though Eros insists on walking on her own he still follows closely, ready to catch her should she fall. They make it with only a minor incident which ends with him carrying her up the last few stairs and into her bedroom, where he leaves her with a promise that he would be just across the hall if she needs him.

     She changes back into her travelling clothes before she lays down, but as much as she wants to, sleep eludes her. Whether it's the darkness or the silence drifting in through the windows, or that her mind is too busy remembering what it was like to play in the halls with her friends or listening to her parents singing from the courtyards down below, she doesn't know. So she waits for a time, thinking, until she decides she's tired of just laying there.

     It's much easier to sneak out of the room when Tyraelyx isn't in it. She leaves the door open as she goes, and though she isn't really thinking about where, her feet take her back to the throne room, back the Eclipse Pool. Something about watching it makes her feel better - perhaps it's just the fact that the water doesn't move. Perhaps it's because it's the only thing that hasn't changed here at all. Regardless, she's there, and she sits on her knees in front of it, content enough to be here rather than somewhere else.

     "What do I do...?" she whispers, "Everyone is gone. Mama, grandmamma... even papa. I don't know what to do to help them. I don't even know if I can." She feels a slight pressure in the back of her mind, brushing along her senses as if to comfort her. She jumps to her feet, startled, ready to whirl on Tyraelyx but when she turns he isn't there. "He-hello?" she says, worried. Was there something else here? How had they missed it?

     The pressure intensifies, like it's trying to push her over. She's not sure she wants to let it. It recedes, as if it understands her reluctance, although it doesn't completely fade away.

     "Where are you?" Eros asks, looking around. The feeling moves, just slightly, trying to pull her attention to a specific place. This she does allow, and her mouth opens slightly when she sees the image of the stars on the surface of the pool distort slightly. More importantly, she can see her own reflection in the water - _that's never happened before._

     Or at least, she thinks it's her reflection, until it moves without her. It waves, the water rippling out from where her hand moves, and tries to give her a comforting smile once the surface has calmed. Not knowing what else to do, she waves back. "Uh... hi?"

     It laughs, softly, although there is no sound. It points at her, then wipes its own face, and points at its own frown before it shakes its head. Eros reaches up to touch her cheeks, and feeling a bit of wetness there she realizes she's been crying. Immediately she wipes the tears away, and her reflection claps and smiles, nodding enthusiastically. _She's telling me not to cry?_ It waves its hand in a 'so-so' motion. "Don't be sad?" she guesses. It nods.

     Eros smiles. It smiles back, then walks around the pool to point up toward where the throne is. Eros follows its finger, seeing the full moon shining directly through the window. "I don't understand. I've never seen the pool move before, why now?"

     It shakes its head again, then points harder. "The... throne?" It smiles. "What about it?" That seems to stump the image for a moment. It stops, looking like it's trying to think, before it shrugs. It points to its eye, and then turns and motions to its back. When it comes back it begins drawing a pattern between the stars around it. With the water rippling as it does it takes several tries for Eros to understand what it's trying to draw, but when she thinks she's figured it out she briskly walks around to the back of the throne. While being so close to it makes her feel apprehensive, she still lightly touches the center with just her ring finger. She's surprised to see the veins of metal light up under her touch, and it fades as soon as she pulls back. Calming herself she touches it again, and from the center point draws the same pattern her reflection did - and with the light following her finger like streaks of glittering paint it's much easier to confirm that, yes, it was her family's crest it wanted her to draw - a flaring Sun and Crescent moon encircled by a dragon’s wings.

     The image glows brighter once she's completed it, enough so that she has to cover her eyes to block it out. There's a rush of air, and when she pulls her hand away from her eyes she realizes she's in a completely different part of the palace - one that she's never seen before. She quickly jumps to her feet (since when was she on her knees?) and takes in her brand new surroundings.

     At first the only thing she's able to tell is that she's in a hallway somewhere. There are no windows to the outside to give any clues based on what might be nearby. The only light comes from above, and wavers as if under water. When she actually looks up, she realizes... she _is_ underwater. The Eclipse Pool is above her, giving the appearance of a night sky at least for that circle of space, but unlike the surface in the throne room she can see the image of the moon, bright and full.

     Seeing no other way to go, and with the Eclipse Pool being so high above her, she decides to go down the hallway. The presence in the back of her mind grows stronger, offering what comfort and reassurance it can. As she continues along, she spies the same veins of metal in the wall here as well, though they seem to be much more organized than up above - gold on the right, silver on the left. Just to see what happens she touches the wall with one hand in a place where it seems many of the lines intersect. She watches in wonder as the silver lights up, starting from where she'd touched the wall and rippling its way outward, until the entire side of the hallway glows with a pale light, giving more than enough for her to see by. 

     With the additional light she's also able to see pictures on the walls. On the left side where the light is, she sees the image of a woman, cloaked entirely in shadows, and it looks like she's speaking with... _are those demons?_ The presence grows uncomfortable, sad. Like it regrets something.

     Following the hallway she sees more pictures of the same woman, fighting, killing, locked in a dance of slaughter. Eventually she finds herself facing against an angel - a man with bright white wings and startlingly red hair - and when Eros touches the picture she's almost forced to the ground as visions and voices rip through her head -

_"If you think I'm going to stand aside and let you murder these people you are sorely mistaken."_

_"Then it's too bad I'm not here for you, Angel."_

_"They are under my protection."_

_"Would you really die for these pathetic weaklings?"_

_"No. Because you won't kill me."_

_"Get out of my way, fool."_

     Eros shudders, massaging her head, looking at the wall opposite her. The scene depicted is the same, but the positions are reversed - it's from his perspective, she realizes. The presence affirms the thought with what feels like it could have been a smile if it had its own body. Regardless, Eros thinks she should probably keep her hands to herself for the rest of this trek. She doesn't want to do that again.

     She studies the pictures as she keeps moving. The woman finds the same angel, fighting him, again and again and again but neither of them are able to kill each other. It looks like they begin to actually _enjoy_ fighting each other - a soft wistfulness confirms that much - and they begin to seek each other out on purpose. In one scene they get into a stalemate. He's pinned underneath her, and both their weapons are at each other's throats, but instead of delivering the blow that could end their fighting, they suddenly pull apart and flee from each other. _What? That makes no sense. Who won?_

     Biting her lip and knowing she's going to regret it immediately, Eros touches the image. Again she's assaulted by the visions.

 _"Got you," she grins, feral, breathing heavily as she leans over him. Both his wings are flat on the ground, trapped under her knees and she knows, she_ knows _that this time he isn't going to get away. Her daggers are pressed against his throat, twin red lines appearing just under her blades._

 _He smiles, that stupid_ cocky _smile she's grown to hate but enjoyed seeing all the same."What makes you say that?"_

_"Really? You're really going to ask me that?" and then she feels it, the tip of a knife at her throat as well. How...?_

_"So what now?" he asks. His eyes, bright orange and full of mirth, lock onto hers._

_She's tempted to push the daggers further. She knows she should. He's her enemy. He has to die._ But what if he doesn't? _A small voice in the back of her head whispers. But as those eyes stare up at her she knows... she won't do it. Just like she hasn't any other time before. She's had plenty of chances. And he's had plenty of chances to kill her too, but never did it._

_"I should kill you."_

_"But you haven't."_

_"Shut up or I might."_

_"You won't."_

_She growls, taking one dagger and pointing it at his face, "Don't tell me what I won't do."_

_"Sorry." He's not sorry._

_"I... I really should kill you."_

_"You keep saying that, and yet, here I am. Better idea, how 'bout we put the weapons down and leave this off for another day?"_

_She thinks about it. He was a worthy opponent - better than she'd had in years. It would be a shame to kill him now. She carefully sets her daggers on the ground near his face, still within reach. He glances at them briefly before lowering his and putting it... somewhere else. She isn't sure where._

_"We're just going to end up like this again," she says flatly._

_He grins, "Is that really the worst thing that could happen?"_

_"Shut up."_

_"Just saying it's better than being dead."_

_"I could make that happen."_

_"Hmm... no thanks."_

_"Can you stop talking?" Surprisingly, he actually does._

_He shifts underneath her a bit, and she almost goes for the dagger again but doesn't get to respond the way she wants because he's wormed his other arm out from under her - there's a hand at the back of her neck, and suddenly she's being pulled down and their lips are touching and she finds that she... actually likes it. Her face, under the shadows obscuring it, must have gone completely red because she feels the warmth bleeding out of her cheeks. She's tempted to let it continue, but something in her snaps and she pulls back._

_"What the hell was that?!"_

_"Thought you didn't want me to talk?"_

     Eros has seen enough. The presence just feels amused - _Lunari_ feels amused. Even more so now that Eros has finally figured out who she is. "But you're dead, how are you..." Lunari pulls at her mind, toward the end of the hall.

      "Alright, fine."

     Knowing what she does now she's even more interested in the story on the walls - Tyraelyx had said she was missing details. Now was her chance to get them. After that meeting she sees their romance starting to grow, until eventually their people find out about them. She sees a group of Angels come together and place a curse on Solaris so that he may only enter Eldrigar under the light of the Sun. For Lunari, the same, although instead it is a group of Demons, and for her the world is only accessible by the moonlight. Effectively they are kept away from each other on the material plane. And so to get around it, she sees the creation of the Roads, where they meet in secret in the Dusklands, where the two Roads intersect. Soon after, Lunari becomes pregnant - at the thought she feels her recoil in pain and despair - and when the demons who cursed her found out, they placed another upon her - a curse that would mean his destruction.

     When next they meet it is on the battlefield again, under a solar eclipse where both the sun and moon are warring for the sky. She's vicious in her attacks against him, and even though he fights her Eros can see the obvious pain and confusion he must have felt.

     At the end of the hall, she finds the end of the story - Lunari standing over him, having already stabbed through his wings with two larger swords, pinning him to the ground. She's going to stab him through the heart. She sobs, and, unable to fight the influence of the curse for very long she begs him to kill her first. He doesn't have a choice - with no other options left to him, Eros watches as he screams, ripping one of the swords out of his wing and running it through her chest.

     The last image, in the center of the wall where their stories meet, is of him weeping over her body. She feels an urge to touch this one too, although before she does Lunari's presence gives the feeling of dread, of trepidation. But there's nowhere else to go, and nothing else in the hallway. Eros takes a deep breath, steeling herself, then reaches out -

_His wings feel like they're on fire, what's left of the feathers are dyed with his blood, but it is nothing in comparison to the ache in his heart. His lover lies in his arms, and the shadows around her are frayed, pulling this way and that, revealing the pale expanse of her skin, gleaming with sweat as she struggles so hard to breathe._

_"I'm sorry," she rasps, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

_He tries to hush her as his wings curl tight around them. He rests his forehead against hers, shaking his head, stroking her cheek. "Not your fault," he cries, "Shh, don't-don't talk. It's okay. It'll be done soon. You'll heal. Then everything will be fine. We'll leave, we'll just... we'll just_ go."

_Her blood stains her teeth when she smiles, frothing between her lips. "Promise me... you'll keep our daughter safe."_

_He stiffens. She coughs. "What... what are you -"_

_There's a build-up of energy around her, around them, and then she screams - drawing the attention of the survivors on the battlefield - mortals, Angels, and Demons alike. Three women immediately rush toward him, but seeing the wild look on his face they stall, tossing their weapons to the side. One moves in front -_

_"We want to help - please... you've done so much for us. Let us help you. She's pregnant, yes? My daughters and I, we can try to save the baby. Just let us help."_

_He's not sure. But he doesn't stop them as they move closer. Lunari still screams, but he realizes as he sees the shadows creeping toward her chest that it's more from that pain than anything else. They were part of her, the shadows. It was part of what started their conflict to begin with - it was only natural a creature of Shadow would hunt a creature of Light._

_Her voice echoes in his head even as her body is lifted away from him. Even if he doesn't understand why, he feels what she does - in her final hours, she's choosing the light. Even if that means purging the darkness from herself. For him. For their child. But in the state she was in..._

_It would kill her._

     Eros lets go of the wall.

     Even as the stone in front of her grinds against the floor and moves away, she stands in place, letting the tears fall. Experiencing that pain, that _guilt_... _how did he survive it?_ The other presence is silent, until when it does try to communicate, it feels farther away. This time she understands - _keep moving._

     And she does. Into the room behind the wall, which is empty save for a simple glass bottle sitting on a stone pedestal in the center. Inside it churns an inky black liquid, radiating power around the room.

 _"The last remnant of my power."_ Lunari's voice echoes in her head.

     "Why?" is Eros' response, "Why show me this?"

_"You need the strength to save your people. This will give you that strength, in time."_

"But..."

_"Shadows are not inherently evil. Light is not inherently good. It's what you do with your abilities that decides. I believe in you. Better you than someone I don't. Take it. Use it. Reclaim Ilyon. Reclaim your birthright."_

     The presence fades. Eros is alone. The wall behind her remains open, leaving her free to go if she chooses - and she understands that she _does_ have a choice. She could just walk away and reseal the room, if that's what she wants. She hesitates, staring at the bottle. To take it... it would mean turning her back on the light, where Lunari had sacrificed everything all those centuries ago to do the opposite. It would mean giving in to the prophecy from her birth. It would mean becoming the Harbinger in truth - the walker in the dark, the shadow dancer, the bringer of death.

_But if it also means I can save Ilyon..._

     A small part of her wonders ‘ _why? Why go that far for a people who hate you?’_

     It’s selfish, but she thinks that, if she doesn’t take it, if she does decide to turn her back, then she would be free of that name. It would take time, but one day no one would know for sure who she is. It would just be assumed she died here, in the destruction of City. She could just be Eros – although she would have to take a new last name. _Talth’Hara –“_ the Lost”, or Vel’Lysion, perhaps, if Tyraelyx allowed it.

     It’s the thought of Tyraelyx which stops her thinking that way. She can already see the disappointment in his eyes at the thought of her abandoning her people. She was raised to be queen one day – _It’s not about what I want. It never has been. And I doubt he would let me forget that._ She nods.

     "People are relying on me," she says to the empty room. She goes up to the pedestal, and with a firm nod she takes the bottle, unstopping it. "I don't get to be afraid."

     Bracing herself she takes a drink - and immediately gags, trying to swallow. It's thick, far thicker than she thought it would be, and cold and tastes of frozen ash. Going down it's physically painful, and it feels as if it's freezing her from the inside out. Her tongue tingles, though thankfully it's not numb yet. But she knows she needs to finish it. She coughs for several minutes before she takes a breath, and chugs it again. This time it goes down easier, and tastes like water. Or maybe after the ash she forgot how to taste. She stops to breathe - one last drink should do it.

     Her hands are shaking, and so she takes the bottle in both to make sure she doesn't drop it. Raising it to her lips she's stunned at how _cold_ this last bit is. It's even colder than the first drink - she feels as though she's just walked outside into the heart of a blizzard in nothing but a thin summer dress. This time she tastes apples, sickeningly sweet, not quite rotten, but too much like someone had added far too much sugar to her mother's cider. After it's gone down all the way the bottle slips from her trembling fingers, and shatters all over the floor.

     She hunches over, trying not to vomit. Her breath escapes in ragged, painful gasps, and tiny black spots  appear on the floor below her. Warmth runs down her nose and from her eyes, but she has no energy to reach up and wipe it away. The room begins to spin and go fuzzy, and her legs wobble incessantly before she falls to the floor. Desperately trying to stay warm inside she tries to curl into herself but she can't - too cold, limbs feel frozen, hurts to _breathe_. She wants to cry, maybe she is crying, but she can only feel ice on her cheeks.

     She feels the presence again, trying to soothe her, just before the room goes black.

-X-X-X- 

     Tyraelyx wakes with a start, shivering violently in his bed and his breath misting in front of him. Instinctively he knows something is very, very _wrong_.

     If he wasn't expecting it, that is.

_It's time, then. I'd wondered when she would find it._

     He gears up, slinging his pack over his shoulder, and makes his way calmly down to the throne room, knowing exactly where he would find his princess. And sure enough, when he walks through the open doorway he sees her, laid across the arms of the throne, unconscious but still breathing - barely. The black ichor running down her face is enough of a sign of the choice she'd made.

     "Eros," he murmurs, lifting her into his arms for the second time that night - or early morning, he supposed, by the light of the dawn coming through the window. Her eyelids flutter as she tries to respond, opening for just long enough to make eye contact; he can hardly see the gold flecks in her irises for how dark of a purple they've become.

     "I-I'm... s-scared..." she whispers. Her voice carries with it a metallic echo, and he fights not to wince. Though once her eyes close again he allows himself a small breath as he shakes his head.

_I swore to watch over you. You will live. I will make sure of it._

     Carefully he walks her outside, and when he sets her down against the wall, he sees she has no shadow. That he's not quite prepared for. Nonetheless, he swallows, and wipes her face with his cloak, then goes around back to fetch the horses. Both shy away when they round the corner, and Icestorm screams wildly and tries to flee once he's dragged even closer. Tyraelyx just barely manages to calm him, and even then he has to use magic to do it. He's never had to before. Eventually the horse allows him to heft Eros into the saddle, but it takes him riding with her held tightly against him for Icestorm to at least be calm enough to ride.

     With a final glance at the palace, he turns his back. They won't be back here for a long time yet.


	5. The Passage of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case is not clear, Eros was 14 at the start of this piece. For the first half of this 'chapter' she's 15, and as just turned 16 in the second. Next chapter, which is the immediate precursor to the game, she'll be 17. :P

* * *

 

     "Again."

     "Come _on_ Tyr- Uncle. We've been doing this for _hours_ can we _please_ take a break?"

     "I don't need a break. You need to be able to defend yourself. Again."

     "But -"

     "No. Again."

     Eros huffs, rolling onto her back in the dirt. She purses her lips, refusing to move.

     "Harbinger."

     "No."

     He shakes his head for what feels like the thousandth time in the last fifteen minutes. "This isn't a game -"

     "I know that!" she snaps, sitting straight up. In her anger he hears the echo return to her voice - though he doubts she even notices it - "Goddess, I _know_ that! Do you think I'm not trying? It's _hard._ I'm not as strong as you, I don't have as much stamina, I'm not as _fast_ \- I'm _not you!_ How can you expect me to keep fighting when I can't even stand up?! I know in a real fight I won't get any breaks, but _this isn't a real fight!_ It's just us! The Oathbreaker and the Harbinger, a pair of outcasts who have nowhere to go -"

     A sharp _crack_ rings out into the air, and she goes completely silent. When she turns back to face him her eyes are wide, brimming with tears as she reaches up to touch the red mark on her cheek. He growls, stabbing his weapon back into its sheath (thankfully he’d struck her with his free hand) - but it's the anger in his eyes that makes her lower her head in shame.

     "I know you're frustrated." His words cut through the atmosphere, colder than she's ever heard them. "I know. Believe me, I understand. I push you as hard as I do because it's necessary. I push you as hard as I do because it _is. Just. Us._ The Oathbreaker and the Harbinger. Being angry about it changes nothing. We are who we are.

     "And right now, who we are includes a young girl who needs to find the strength to keep fighting - not just for right now, but for the future of her people. So get up. Breathe. _Try again._ "

     She sniffs, tearing at the blades of grass on the ground before she stands, sullenly brushing the dirt and dust from her clothes. Tyraelyx nods in approval, going back to his place across the glade. He settles into a combative stance, drawing his rapier once more, watching. Waiting. The rattling of her chain is the only sound as she gathers her bearings, as her eyes flit back and forth from him to his weapon to his feet. In a real fight he knows she can gather all the same information at a moment's notice - he's seen her do it in other spars - but for now he's content to allow her to come up with some sort of a battle plan.

     As quickly as she's decided she moves, slipping quickly into his range. The end of her chain whips out toward his feet, easily deflected by his weapon. She follows it, stepping in, arm raised as though she's about to slash at him with her kama. As he goes to block the strike he realizes - that's exactly what she wants. He sees her muscles in the other arm tense even before she yanks the chain back, and with a small smile he jumps backward over it before it can pull him off his feet.

     He has to use his rapier to block the kama as it comes at him twice more - _good, she's pressing the attack_ \- and the third time he purposefully goes to twist it out of her grip. "You said yourself you're not as strong as me," he says, seeing her wince as she breaks away from him, "You can't fight me head on." He ducks under the chain and interrupts the kick aimed for his torso, using his free hand to grab her leg and twist her off her feet. She has to stop attacking him to cartwheel instead, and swings the chain again as soon as she's landed. "Focus on finding a way to balance us out. Bring me to your level. Give yourself an advantage."

     She scowls, backing away further, and he nods appreciatively at the sight of her uncoiling the chain more from her arm. _Ideally that will give her more reach. With more experience she'll be able to keep her opponents from getting close._ "Good. But now your attacks will be weaker and easier to see coming. Now what?" He sidesteps lazily as she swings at him again. "You'll need to make up for the lack of force somehow. You don't have the power behind your attacks to hit me effectively that way - not yet. Think, Harbinger. How can you get more?"

     The answer comes immediately as he sees her stance change. She stands taller, poised, in a position that denotes she's fallen into the steps of the Shimmering Dawn - _as taught to her by her mother._ The change in her attacks is easy to see, as she spins and twirls with the chain acting as fluid as the ribbons he's seen other practitioners employ, adding far more momentum and speed. The air nearly whistles behind it as she swings at him, and at this point he knows she's caught on. He nods, proud.

     He moves closer, forcing her to try to duck away. While he's careful to make sure he won't actually hurt her, he makes a few attacks of his own, throwing her even more on the defensive. With him as close as he is she can't attack properly - and she realizes that, quickly striding backwards, close to the trees.

     He thrusts the rapier toward her, expecting it to stop just over her heart and indicating an end to the duel, but he's surprised when she grins, winding the chain around his wrist and twirling out of the way. His arm gets yanked to the side, he's forced to let go of his weapon as the chain slides down around it, and he feels a boot slam into his back (as hard as a fifteen-year-old child can muster) shoving him face first into the tree. Dazed, he shoves himself off and shakes his head - _didn't see that coming. Well done -_ although he's clearly not expecting the chain to wrap around his leg and rip it out from under him. The startled yelp as he falls to the ground make that clear.

     Before he has a chance to spring to his feet she's already standing with one foot on his chest, the point of her kama just inches from his throat. He knows he could get out of it if he wanted to. But given the nature of the spar, he just smiles instead, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

     "I concede. You win. _Now_ we can take a break."

     She's breathing heavily, but he doesn't miss the grin that breaks out on her face for just a moment before she drops her weapon and falls to the ground next to him. He hears her laugh slightly before she raises both arms in the air, victorious. He chuckles.

     "You did well," he says after a while, "With more practice you'll be able to handle yourself, even without me."

     She tenses up next to him, immediately sitting up. "I won't have to, though, right? Because you won't leave... will you?"

     "Not permanently. Not for a long time yet, anyway. On purpose."

     "What do you mean 'not permanently'?!"

     He turns to regard her, swallowing back an apology for the fear he can see in her eyes. "We need money if we're going to continue to survive. The human village nearby has been plagued by a wandering band of thieves interfering with their trade caravans. They've offered a reward to anyone who can stop them. I'm going to look into it."

     "Then I'll come with you -"

     "No. You're not strong enough yet. You're going to stay at the inn there and wait for me to return. Take the time to practice your magic - I'll want to see what you've managed to learn while I've been away."

     "But -"

     "Harbinger."

     She purses her lips, turning away. "Fine," she grumbles, hugging her knees to her chest. Her sullen silence continues even as they pack up their meager belongings from the campsite and gather the horses, and even still as they ride away down the road.        

-X-X-X- 

     The Harbinger steps carefully along the branch of the tree she's hiding in, trying as hard as she can not to disrupt the leaves just waiting to rustle and give away her position. With the shadows of the leaves fallen around her, she feels safe in thinking that as long as she doesn't make too much noise, her prey should have no idea she's as close as she is. Wrapped in her cloak - mottled gray and black in the likeness of the shadows she's beginning to think of as _home_ \- and with her hood drawn over her hair she blends in just fine.

     Long ears twitch just below her as he pads along the forest floor. She can hear the leaves and twigs crisply rub against each other with each of his footfalls, and the soft creak of leather armor bending as he picks his way past. He's abandoned his cloak for this exercise - it would be far too easy to see it, ruining the point of their game. Instead he wears the colors of the forest - greens and browns and blacks as well, although the shock of silver hair on his head still makes him easy to spot so long as she knows to look.

     He moves further away, then stops, his ears pricking as though he's heard something he's looking for. Just to be sure she softens her breathing, crouching smaller. Under her breath she whispers an arcane incantation, gesturing to an area not far ahead of him. He swivels, facing that direction as the sound of a breaking branch disrupts the silence. She sees him smile, confident, striding toward it as though nothing is wrong. She stifles a smile of her own.

     Once he's moved far enough away she slips down out of the tree, stepping on only the branches she knows can hold her weight, and using the shadows of the trees she follows behind him. She moves slowly, placing her steps carefully to avoid making as much noise as she can. She can still hear him walking ahead of her, and even without being able to hear him she can see signs of his passing - broken branches in the bushes, bent grass, a footprint skirting the edge of a small puddle of mud.

     He stops. So does she, slipping behind a tree thicker than she is, placing her back up against it.

     Nothing happens. She doesn't hear him move at all. She realizes she can't even hear him breathe.

     Peeking her head around the corner of the tree reveals that not only can she not hear him, she can't _see_ him. He's gone. _What?_

     "Looking for someone?"

     She jumps, stumbling several feet away before whirling on Tyraelyx, who stands with his arms crossed over his chest. The smile on his face is far too full of himself. She sputters, looking back to where she could have sworn he just _was_ , how did he move so _quickly_ , and how did she not notice? "But- How did- You were just _there_! How did you know where -"

     "I heard you cast. Using the trees, good idea. Not many people think to look up. If you'd tagged me instead of trying to drag it out you would have won."

     "I still found you first!"

     "Did you?" he asks, smirking.

     "Yes!"

     He laughs. "You did. You're getting better. I almost fell for it."

     She's beaming, filled with pride. "That means I get to pick what we do tonight, right? Since I found you first?"

     He rolls his eyes and begins walking back to town. "Nevermind that it's your birthday and I would have let you _anyway_ , sure, why not."

     "Can we go to see the ocean? We haven't ever gone. I want to see it. Is it true the water goes on and on and on for miles and you can't even see what's on the other side? Can we can we can we?"

     Tyraelyx shoves her playfully to the side. " _Yes_ we can go to the sea. Tell you what - we'll even have dinner on the beach. Your pick."

     "Really?"

     "Really."

     Harbinger smiles and rushes ahead chattering excitedly, and he's reminded of the girl she used to be. Of little Eros, two years ago before Ilyon fell. _It's good to see her smile again,_ he thinks as he follows behind. _It's been far too long. I'm glad to let her have this, at least._


	6. Onto the Boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and a short one to end it off xP

* * *

 

_"I'll be just a moment. Don't wander off."_

Easy enough for him to say. Ruinsfeld Port is much bigger than she would have thought. So many more _people_ than she was used to seeing anymore. The last time she'd seen this many people together was... _No, don't want to think about that right now._

Waiting in front of the inn wasn't much fun. Too many people stopped to stare at her. Too many of those stares made her feel less than comfortable. Too many uncomfortable feelings made her move away down the street to at least pretend like she was doing something other than loitering. Walking (not wandering – she knew _exactly_ where she was going! It just so happened to be _away_ ) away down the stone of the street she takes the time to actually _see_ the port town. Like most of the Twin Kingdoms areas, the buildings here in Ruinsfeld were also primarily made of stone – both to keep them from being susceptible to fire but also here on the coast to prevent warping wood from the damp sea air.

Hanging from windows and walls she can see bright, colorful flags decorating the town, mostly in oranges and purples, yellows and reds, clashing against each other on purpose to distract from the flat stone gray. She remembers how garish the people of the Twin Kingdoms can be, and smiles, appreciating the fact that at least they like to have fun. As if to confirm the thought, voices carry from windows of taverns and in the street, lifted high in song and laughter. She can hear challenges being shouted from one end of the street only to be answered from the other, raucous cheering and clapping everywhere in between. She passes a pair of performers juggling colorful balls and trading impolite jokes back and forth, and further down a man calls for volunteers to be cut in half. If not for the fact that she doesn’t want to call attention to herself, she may have raised her own hand, but opts instead to keep walking. The last she sees of him, he’s pulled a young brown-haired woman from the crowd to the delighted applause of the people.

She stops for a moment to browse a fruit vendor's cart, fondly remembering her mother's apples, when she hears it, ear lifting to listen closer to the conversation on the other side of the street.

"- An entire group of slaves, slaughtered, building the damn wall."

"Ugh, and let me guess, Jhan just sent more out, didn't they? Of course they wouldn't care."

"I heard most of 'em were Aurians. You don't think..."         

"The people from the ruins in the South Woods?"

"Well they had to have gone _somewhere_."

The apple slips from numb fingers, and she turns, desperately searching for the source of the voices. Three years of nothing. No leads. No rumors. No survivors but her and Tyraelyx - outcast from any of the outlying villages that remained in Fel'Errien for being bad luck and an Oathbreaker, names which have dogged their steps for far too long – and now on a chance walk through town _someone finally_ knew something. And now, _now_ she feels stupid for not having guessed. Of course Jhan was involved. They were the center of the slave trade, of _course_ they would have had something to do with it.

It takes her a moment, but she does spot a pair of who she assumes to be sailors standing near the entrance of another tavern. They’re not trying to hide what they’re saying at all, so when one of them asks where they’re headed next, it isn’t hard to find the boat heading to Okrensburg at the docks on the end of the pier.

That boat was going to take her to her people. To her parents. Whether the crew knew it or not. All she has to do is wait for the right moment, then she can sneak on, easy. And when the moment comes, it is. The Vanish spell comes to her as instinctively as breathing - and given her relationship with her father and the last three years hiding, she knows exactly what it feels like not to be seen.

Nobody looks twice as she weaves her way between the sailors up the gangplank onto the boat. Nobody says anything when the door to belowdecks creaks open just a crack (enough for her to squeeze through). Nobody notices one box of cargo get shoved away from a wall when they aren't looking or listening and even when they do see it they assume it's right where it's supposed to be.

And that's where she hides until it's too late for them to do anything about it.

_Alright, Tyraelyx. We did things your way for three years, but I'm tired of hiding. I have a chance, now, and I'm going to take it. The Harbinger of Chains is coming for Jhan._

**Author's Note:**

> Can't have a tabletop roleplay game character without a call to adventure.


End file.
